


"Just a Guy, Jacob Haynes." (Why Be Normal?)

by Ottsky



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Morning Routines, Moses And Margarito mentioned in passing, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27486403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottsky/pseuds/Ottsky
Summary: One of the things I like about Jacob is that "normal" is such a vague concept. Really, the whole reason he is "normal" is that it makes him, and the rest of the team, both feel really profoundly unique by extension? The concept of the "straight man" from comedy comes to mind - the importance is not to be understated. I also wanted to make it very clear and emphatically obvious that _normal_ is what one feels like more than what one _is._ Jacob in this piece is implied heavily to be black, and is explicitly a trans man. As a result, this is more of an exploration of a "normal" morning for the "normal" man.
Kudos: 6





	"Just a Guy, Jacob Haynes." (Why Be Normal?)

Wake up at Seven Thirty, to the alarm. A nice, standard beeper, let beep 3 times before being turned off. A walk to the bathroom, and a quiet sigh, staring into the mirror. Another Day, Another set of games. Another hour in the bathroom. 

Sure. It wasn’t a  _ “normal” _ thing for a  _ “normal” _ guy like him to have to do, but it helped him  _ feel _ normal, and that was what was important. So out came the makeup case, and then a slow, steady dab along the jawline, and then the cheekbones. Small, barely perceptible amounts, just enough to accentuate each, draw attention to them in a way that helped make his face look sharper, stronger, more “rugged.” Rugged was a word that Hiroto used once.

He liked that one.

A huff, and then a sigh, gently running his hand across his hair, and then idly picking at it, before huffing. Nervous flicks of the ear. A hand, gently draws across a scar. Yep. Still there.

He’s still him. Just a guy. Jacob Haynes.

One time, he still remembers to this day, a Fan approached him - told him he looked like a fellow called “Big Papi.” He couldn’t find any mention of that fellow anywhere in Boston - He even asked Dunn Keyes, considering they came from some alternate Dimension - But then again, the fans were...always curious.

Not bad. Just curious. 

The idea of being associated with a guy named “Big Dad,” however, (as Margarito later translated for him,) was an enormous positive. So he kept the exceedingly tightly trimmed beard (further augmented with a little makeup to make it look fuller), and carefully maintained that fade up to his hair. He slowly looked himself in the mirror, before he pulled on a shirt, a simple, pastel green button down, tucked into some comfortably slack jeans, with a spot for his tail, which flitted through the air with a nervous pride. It was hard not to be. Everyone was so nice on the team. He’d been there the whole time, of course, but it was different then, he supposed. A long, steady process of making sure that he felt the most like himself he could manage.

A slow stretch, before he walked out of the bathroom, and into the kitchen of his apartment. Thumb the heater on the diffuser in his apartment. Walk over to the coffee pot. Grind up some Decaf, some new brand from… This one said “La Paz.” He’d not heard of it, so he’d looked it up at the Boston Public Library, and found out that it was apparently a very mountainous region in South America. He thought that was neat. This whole coffee subscription was such a nice gift, honestly.

Two duck eggs on a warm skillet, some beans, salsa, cheese, and tortillas. Huevos Rancheros. Perfectly normal, ignoring the fact that the eggs were from a duck. Couldn’t blame allergies, though, they were just allergies. Turn on the TV, and let the ambient sound of someone discussing the production of ambulances fill the room.

The team didn’t have a game today. The entire game was on a siesta. That didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. It had meant he could go meet other people, see folks he hadn’t seen in a while, visit friends…

Just exist, as a person again. Just a guy.

The coffee machine let out a little beep, as it finished, and he quietly served out his breakfast on a plate, before taking both of them out onto the small porch he had on his apartment, and stared out into the warm fall air in Boston, letting the TV play background noise, as he ate happily, watching the boats float by on the harbor.

An abnormally normal morning, a comfortable calm after so much excitement and trauma and highs and lows. 

It occurred to him that, in a way, it mirrored his own self - He was the “most normal” person on the Flowers (by choice and design, given his history,) and always seemed to make him stand out. Likewise, the amount of rapid fire action that had happened over the past eleven seasons now stood in stark contrast to the peaceful calm that washed over the entirety of the league, and in so doing, stood out more sharply.

He supposed that was a fun irony in normalcy - it could feel abnormal, when your every day was so particularly extraordinary.

His tail flicked a few times, ears wiggling proudly as he texted Moses. Maybe he’d do something a little out of the ordinary today. Sure, he was always “just a guy,”

But part of the fun of being normal was always how unique everyone else was in comparison, and if everything seemed so quiet and normal now,

_ Why not stir things up a little bit? _

**Author's Note:**

> The hook at the end of this might mean something, maybe.
> 
> Maybe? I'm really finnicky and spotty about posting, as you might notice if you look at my fic habits, so I won't make any promises. But I managed to come back and finish this fic, which is rare enough on it's own, so I wanted to post it while I have it in my hands.


End file.
